We Have No Choice But To Eat Our Words (And Count Small Victories)
by RatherAbysmal
Summary: Post 1x5 (The Iron Ceiling). Jarvis and Carter were the last two people Jack ever expected on his doorstep, but here they were, bringing a headache and their troubles along with them. Cartson beginnings.
Disclaimer: I don't own Agent Carter. It's fanfiction.

A/N: A what-if scenario from Jack's POV.

* * *

Jack sprang up from his sleep, his hand instinctively going for the gun in his drawer. He stilled his breath, his heartbeat thudding through his ears. He cocked his ear for a listen.

There it was again, a series of loud, agitated knocks at his front door. Jack slid his feet onto the cool floor with a frown and glanced at the timepiece on his nightstand. It was just past midnight. He swiftly made his way to the door with his pistol, closing in from the sides, and quickly looked through the peephole.

Well, what the heck?

"Mr. Thompson! Mr. Thompson!" the vagrant frantically shouted. "Are you in? It's an emergency!"

Edwin Jarvis? What the hell was he doing here in the middle of the night? More importantly, how did he know where to find him?

Through further inspection, Jack could see that the tall man was certainly worse for wear. Under the dim hallway light of his building, the butler's face was pale and sweaty. He appeared to have gotten in some kind of tussle—his hair was messed, splotches of dirt lined his face and dress shirt, and there was even a streak of red running from his lip. Quite frankly, he looked ready to fold over himself.

"What do you want, Mr. Jarvis?" Jack sneered through the door. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't shoot you where you stand."

"Please, I beg of you, I wouldn't be here if I had a choice," the man mustered heavily. "Miss Carter is gravely injured!"

Jarvis pulled back from the door and it was then Jack noticed that there was a weight in his arms that he was struggling to keep aloft. A female body.

Jack scrambled for the locks on his door. That surely couldn't be Carter. It didn't make sense at all. He wretched the door opened, the knob slamming into the wall, and pointed his gun at Jarvis. His eyes snapped to the woman's face, vaguely registering the familiar bold red lipstick, sharp cheekbones, and styled dark brown hair.

He skimmed over the rest of her form, where he could see several abrasions bleeding through her clothes but what made his stomach drop was the jacket tied around her middle. Jarvis must have taken his off to staunch the bleeding but from where Jack stood, it was doing a poor job.

"What happened to her?" he growled, pistol shaking from restrained anger. He could feel the licks of fear trickling up his spine. He didn't know what Jarvis was into or what he was doing with Stark but there was an injured agent—one of his own and a woman at that—on his doorstep and now was not the time for his flashbacks to come and mess with his head.

Jarvis glanced down at Carter, then at Jack, his words suddenly lost in his throat.

Jack growled in frustration. "I'm calling the ambulance—"

"No!" the man all but shouted. He looked to his sides to see if any of Jack's neighbors wised up to the commotion. "You can't!"

Jack resisted the urge to thwack the butler in the head. "Wake up, Jarvis! She needs a doctor!"

"I can patch her up!" he argued. "I just need a safe place to put her down. Really, I wouldn't be here if I had any other choice."

"A safe place to put her down?" There was a bleeding woman in his arms and the man thinks he can fix her up like a doll?

And what the hell even happened? He and Ramirez had taken her out for lunch just this afternoon, as a thanks of sorts and a toast to Li. She had been fine then, said she was going to clock out early, having mostly finished her assignments, and perhaps catch up with her friends. How did a meeting with friends end up like this?

"Can we trust you or not?" Jarvis implored, eyes wild. "If you're going to shoot me, then please, go ahead because she's heavier than she looks and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep."

"We?" Jack repeated suspiciously. He glanced at Carter sharply, his brain struggling to connect the lines. How did this woman fit into all this?

"I promise, we're the good guys."

Jack curled his lip in frustration. "You better be." He waved his pistol. "Get in. And you will explain everything to me, even if I have to drag you into headquarters myself."

"I understand," Jarvis grunted, making a beeline directly toward the nearest couch. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're even giving me a chance to talk. Last we met, you were about to beat the living daylights out of me."

The butler tried to place Carter lengthwise onto the couch, aiming her head for the decorated pillow at one end, but ended up with half her body hanging off the edge.

"Careful, will you?!" Jack snarled. "She's a lady!"

Jarvis muttered under his breath. "I don't see you helping."

Jack let out a huff of frustration, placed his weapon on the coffee table, and hoisted Carter to a position that could pass for sleeping. He caught Jarvis' eye zero in on a bloodstain leftover from their efforts.

"Don't worry about the secondhand couch! Fix Carter now!" Jack ordered.

Jarvis shot up and raced toward his hallway. He came back a split second later. "Um, where's your med kit?"

"In the bathroom, top left drawer!"

He raced away again and Jack rubbed his forehead, the sheer force of stress threatening to roll him over flat. His head was spinning, trying to connect all the dots and strings, and for some stupid reason, Carter was in the middle of it.

He glanced at the woman in question, who looked decidedly vulnerable on his ratty piece of furniture, face pale but her features soft and tame. It was so unlike the fierce Agent he knew, who schooled tight, stubborn lines throughout her poise and rained indignant fury upon any poor sod who mistook her otherwise.

There was so much at play here, and mark his words, Jack will get to the bottom of it, but Carter was in danger and he wasn't so stone-hearted as to leverage her life for them. Besides, if any answers were to be had, they would come from her mouth, not the house-husband of a butler who by all impressions, would likely buckle into a dead faint under the slightest force of hand.

Jack watched her breathe softly—she didn't appear to be under any sort of distress—and patted her cheek to see if she would wake. As if his prayers were answered, she made a slight wince, her nose scrunching imperceptibly. He patted her cheek again, a little stronger this time. Carter groaned and faster than he could blink, she had his wrist in a vice grip, causing him to jump. Not that he would admit it.

She squinted her eyes at him, then at her surroundings. She let out another groan, but the grip on his wrist relaxed. "Oh jeez, I've died and gone to hell."

To his utter chagrin, he let out a lame chuckle. "Figures."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Where's Jarvis?"

"Good question, he's—"

"Got it!" the English man interrupted. He froze at the sight of Carter struggling to sit herself up. "No, no, Miss Carter, you have to lay back down!"

She fired a glare so hot, Jack was surprised the man wasn't incinerated through sheer will.

"Why did you bring me here? What happened to the men chasing us?" she demanded.

Jarvis fumbled with the med kit, hesitantly wheedling his way through his answers as Carter shifted this way and that on the couch. Jack was sorely tempted to stay her with his hands but knowing her, she'll probably wretch his arm out of his socket. He eyed the blood she was rubbing all over the couch and wonder if voicing that matter was more their repertoire.

"They're out there… somewhere," he started. At her stern look, he sputtered. "I panicked! One second you were screaming orders at me, the next you were out cold in the back seat! I thought you'd died!"

Carter winced at that, regarding him with the kind of sympathy only a woman could.

"I wanted to bring you to the hospital but I didn't want to get you arrested and I didn't know how desperate those men were, so I perused your address book. I thought maybe Agent Sousa would at least be receptive to hearing your side out before shooting us in the head but only Agent Thompson lived in the area and you told me you were on slightly better terms so I ducked the car into a nearby alley after I gave them a roundabout and carried you up to the apartment."

Carter exchanged a hesitant glance with her coworker. "Slightly may be pushing it…"

Jack raised his eyebrow. "Well, I haven't shot you in the head yet."

"Hmm." She grimaced when Jarvis lifted her blouse to see the wound. Jack looked away, his neck and ears flushing bright red.

Carter pressed her fingers around the edge, testing her tolerance of pain. "It all sounds rather incredulous. Are you sure you lost them?"

"Yes, no one followed us." He pulled out a pair of forceps but Carter shook her head.

"I took the bullet out already," she answered.

"With your fingers?" Jarvis squeaked.

She narrowed her eyes. "With tweezers." She grabbed the antiseptic. "Though perhaps I was a bit overzealous when digging for the scrap of metal because next thing you know, I'm waking up with Thompson's grumpy mug in my face."

"Perhaps you can do us all a favor and pass out again so we can treat your wound without all your petulance," Jack glowered. His face was hardly a terrible thing to wake up to. In fact, he was sure any lady would be lucky to see his scruffy self first thing in the morning.

"You wish," she scoffed but let out a yelp when the antiseptic hit her skin. "Do you have anything strong to drink?"

Jack handed her the decanter on the table. Normally he would pour it in a fancy glass before offering it to a guest but he knew she wouldn't appreciate the split second he would waste when it was all going into her stomach anyway.

Jarvis helped Carter clean the wound several more times before carefully patching a gauze on it. By then, Carter had downed most of the decanter and the snotty side of Jack's upbringing, briefly thought of demanding reimbursement for his abysmal services, cheap alcohol, and secondhand couch.

Jarvis fussed nervously over Carter as he tidied up the med kit, casting wary glances at Jack every once in a while. Carter should be fine, provided that she knew basic first aid and sought follow up treatment, which Jack presumed she possessed somewhere in the arsenal of tips, tricks, and know-hows that always accompanied her.

When Jarvis left the room to put the supplies away, Jack leveled a firm look at the woman. "Are you going to tell me what you've been up to or are you going to pretend you can't hold your whiskey?"

She gave him a pointed look before sighing against the pillow. "I was looking into a lead."

"Go on," he prompted. He noted that her eyes were a bit glassy so the alcohol was working through her system.

She placed the back of her hand on her forehead. "Before you lose your head, I'm going to tell you up front. It has to do with Howard Stark."

Jack instantly felt white hot rage race through him but clamped his mouth shut.

"I've voiced my opinion previously but clearly, you all thought I was smitten with him." Her face turned pink at that. "Which is honestly ridiculous! Can't a man and woman have a platonic relationship without some bloody wanker putting a label on it!"

Jack subconsciously pulled at his collar.

"Howard is my friend. I know for a fact that he is innocent but you all refuse to see any other options. Someone is out there, putting the blame on the wrong guy and sending all the agents on a wild goose chase—I had to do something. So I started doing research on my own and following my own leads. I know it's risky. It's downright suspicious, but I wouldn't take back any of it."

Jack rubbed a palm over his face. "I don't know what to say. Half of me wants to cuff you and drag you right to headquarters. The other half wants to believe that what you're saying is true. Either way, you're in it deep."

Carter nodded but he could see her fists clench tight onto the thin blanket Jarvis had placed over her. He wondered if she would clock him in the face if he made a move to bring her in.

He could also tell that she was fighting to stay awake so he decided to call it a night. "We'll talk tomorrow. For now, rest."

She opened her mouth to protest.

"Look, Carter. It's been a long night and you've just been shot. I'm praying to God here that you won't die on me because I decided to take a chance on what two bullheaded fools had to say. Let's leave it at that, alright? I promise you won't wake up in the interrogation room."

She looked at him carefully and nodded.

"Good night, Carter." He flicked the lights off and went off to see to the butler.

* * *

The shrill ringing of the alarm clock startled Jack awake, who damn near chuck the thing out his window. He didn't want to get up yet; his body was weary, his eyes burned, and he had the strangest dream last night.

He shot upright in his bed. That wasn't a dream at all.

He scrambled off the bed, tripping over his comforter and landing with a loud thump over the papers he had procured from Carter's briefcase. He had, without permission, rummaged through her belongings after she and Jarvis went to sleep, hoping her detailed notes would shed more light on what she was up to. Jack was not disappointed.

He swiftly got up and hurried to the living room where the bold smell and sizzle of bacon hit him.

"Uh… Jarvis, are you wearing my Gam Gam's apron?"

The aforementioned man peered up from where he was flipping eggs. "Good morning, Agent Thompson. I figured a good English breakfast would at least lift our spirits before you sentence us to our doom."

Jack grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He looked to find Carter still laid upon the couch, significantly more alert than she had been the night prior.

"How are you feeling?" he asked warily.

"Like I've been shot," she scoffed. She was jotting notes in a pad, looking decidedly grumpy. "And if you don't mind, I really would like my papers back."

He swallowed audibly. "Sorry, I'll go wash up and then get them back to you." He quickly retreated to the bathroom, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed of his state of attire. It hadn't occurred to him until now that a lady had entered his abode and seen him in his sleepwear.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, Jack was feeling more refreshed. He picked up all the papers on his bedroom floor, walked to the kitchen, and smartly handed it to Carter. She didn't say anything in return, which Jack had come to expect. He eagerly welcomed the plate of food Jarvis offered however, and nearly asked for seconds when he took a bite. Whatever Stark may be, he definitely made a good choice in hiring Jarvis.

As he polished off his meal, he realized that Carter had barely touched hers. "Are you not hungry? I can go pick up something if you don't want an English whatever."

Carter frowned at him. "What are we doing, Thompson?"

"Eating?"

"Yes, then what?" She gave him a hard stare. "What happens now?"

Okay, so she wanted to do this now.

Jack took a long sip from his mug. "Right, let me establish I would like for all of us to be on the same side. I'm not saying I believe that Stark isn't the one we're looking for, but I want to believe that you have good character. You had my back in Russia and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt."

Carter was watching him carefully.

"Let's say I don't turn you in. What are you going to do?"

"I'm not inclined to tell you."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Something's got to give, Carter. Everyone at the SSR believes Stark has connections to Leviathan. Until evidence says otherwise, you and a civilian cannot go poking your noses where they don't belong. It's dangerous."

"Danger never stopped me."

"And if you get caught for treason and labeled as… let's say, Stark's piece on the side?"

She twitched at that. "Thompson, you have to understand. Even if Howard wasn't a close friend, we are running out of time. Leviathan is up to something and as much as it pains me to say it, the SSR is not keeping up."

"Then we'll make them keep up!"

"There's hardly sufficient evidence at this point. Nothing I say will convince them because I'm the lady who fields phone calls and fetches coffee!"

"Well, I could say—"

"A bit late at this point. If you switch theories without evidence, everyone at the office is going to think you're sweet on me and then we both might as well be sacked."

Jack flushed at that. "I-I could nudge them towards the right way."

"That I don't disagree with but what we really need is full manpower to overcome their operations. That's why I have to keep doing this on my own. I need to weed out something for the SSR to find."

Jack growled. "You're being ridiculous. Look at what happened last night! You almost died and the butler over here panicked and brought you to my doorstep. If it was another agent, you'll be in the hospital with your wrist handcuffed to the rail!"

"So you're saying you're in?" Jarvis spoke. He set his utensils down and folded his hands.

"In?"

"Yes, are you in?" Carter repeated, stirring the spoon in her tea.

Jack blinked. "Are you saying you want me to help you on your loony recons?"

Carter perked an eyebrow. "They're hardly loony, but yes, I would have better luck if I had an actual agent to back me up."

"Back up? If anything, you're the back up," Jack mumbled incoherently.

Carter rolled her eyes. "Whatever you like, Agent. I often find the roles quite synonymous." She leveled him with a contemplating stare. "You say you don't want to turn us in. You also don't want me to go out on my own. Either you stand back and continue as you were or you assist us in our endeavor to take down Leviathan."

He noted that she neglected to mention a third option—to stop her side missions altogether and to work SSR as a legit resource. He thought it would be harder to reconcile the uptight office version he knew with the more than capable fighter she revealed in Russia but he really could see how the two could meld into an unstoppable force of a woman. He chanced a glance at the empty decanter on his coffee table. He really needed a drink.

"I'm really going to regret this aren't I?" he said, half to himself.

"Well?" Carter prompted.

"Fine. But you have to tell me everything. No more secrets, no more running off on your own or with him," Jack pointed at Jarvis, "because I'm pretty sure he never held a firearm before in his life."

"Agreed," she stated.

Jack narrowed his eyes at her. "Everything. Even if we're annoyed or mad with each other."

Carter scoffed. "I'm not your wife, Thompson. I'm not going to play the petty games you seem to think woman partake in. If you agree to be _partners_ on this, anything I know related to the SSR or Leviathan will be yours to know as well."

Jack squirmed at the word, partners. "Fine."

"In any case," Jarvis started, "I believe it's time for you to head out to work, Agent Thompson."

Jack finished his mug of coffee and stood up. "I'm not Stark, Jarvis. You don't have to butler me."

Jarvis shrugged, already stacking the plates together to wash.

Jack brushed off his suit and gathered his briefcase. He pointed a finger at Carter. "I better not see you at work today. That also means you do not go off fishing by yourself. You have to heal." He looked around his apartment. "You can stay here in the meantime; you shouldn't be moving around with a wound like that."

She looked like she wanted to protest but thought better of it.

"Jarvis, you watch her. I mean it, especially now that I know what kind of a woman she is."

Jarvis laughed. "I don't think you do yet, Agent. You're in for a big surprise."

Jack shook his head and left, knowing full well that his chief may have been right about a woman being the end of him. He just hadn't known it would probably be Carter.


End file.
